• Mature • Cold Kisses

[Clavam]

3rd of Cylus 722

"The fuck are you doing?"

Clavam flinched when Gladis sidled up to him on his bunk wrapping her arms around his shoulders. It wasn't the most unsubtle advance he'd received, nor the boldest, but he'd not expected it from the likes of an Imperial Agent. On consideration, perhaps he should've known better. Spycraft and the world of sharing intelligence held many tactics that lay outside his experience. He was well used to directing groups in battle, but when it came to social chicanery, he was less well experienced.

"Shhh..." She whispered, and then drew close to him, placing her lips over his ear as she whispered. "Tomorrow, chat with Waller." It wasn't easy for Clavam to decipher what she was saying, in the tone, the vocal fry she was filtering her voice through. But to anyone else, it'd seem like a sweet moment between two unlikely lovers.

"You need to push your tits in my face to tell me tha'?" He rasped back at her.

At that, she recoiled, and wrinkled her forehead, her brows turning upward as if she was hurt. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together, Clav. Get used to this manner of cover, and maybe learn to enjoy it."

Clavam shrugged. Then she leaned in for a kiss, planting her lips on his a few times. "Your lips are fucking cold."

Gladis giggled at that, as if he'd said the funniest fucking thing. He didn't like this sort of game. "Well, we'll just need to fix that. Light a fire under me, and we'll see to that."

Was this coded language, or just a bit of begging for a fun time. "Listen, I don't need a relationship now."

"Me either." She whispered, planting another few kisses on his lips, and then trailing down to his neck.

"What?"

"Sex isn't that big a deal in the Empire." She pulled away from him, and glanced at Clavam with a twisted look in her eye. "But since it is in Etzos, that'll work to our perceptual advantage. They'll not think we're conspiring, but that we're in love or some bullshit."

Clavam had to admit, he was intrigued by her claim, and also by the prospect of conspiratorial cuddling. In the end, he just decided to go with it. He wasn't a lady's man by any stretch of the imagination, but he wasn't a prude either.

"Why Waller?" Clavam whispered into her ear, smelling her hair. The locks of hair smelled vaguely of pine. Not bad.

"Mana baby." She moaned as she licked his neck. "The gateway to mana."

She must've been talking about Nall's closeness to Leronis, the black widow who helped Mama Joe in the kitchens. Of course. They'd need food and a supply of rations if they were to make it any distance beyond the fort. Taking time to forage, trap, and hunt would only slow them down and be mostly pointless during Cylus. Gladis seemed to have a handle on what they needed to do. "I don't know..." Clavam whispered back.

She clutched his chin with her free hand, and angled it to face her as she pulled away from his neck. She cooed in a sing-song voice, "You can do it." Then she whispered, as she leaned into his ear, "Nall is devoted to Leronis, they're like sisters. I'm sure you can think of something to prompt that protective instinct." She licked his earlobe, as if to punctuate the point she was trying to make.

[Clavam]

"All you need do, and get Nall to agree, and Leronis will fall in line." She whispered between gasps. At this point, their activity had gotten a few audience members from the surrounding barracks. A little bit disgusted and mortified, Clavam threw the fur blanket over them both to hide their activity.

"I have hammer duty the next few days with Brock." He muttered, "But afterward, I can."

Then they kissed again, and Gladis began loosening Clavam's breeches. He did the same for her.

"There's one more thing..." She whispered, "You'll need to choose one of them as a fall guy."

Here, Clavam nearly kicked her out of bed for suggesting it. He got on well with all his cohorts. He couldn't imagine setting one of them up for a fall. But then he had a thought about it. It was likely that he couldn't rely entirely on luck when evading the forces of the Forbidden Post. He would need a little extra inducement and weight that could be cut. In the end, given the nature of the preparations, the sneaking and squirreling of resources to places in the mines, he settled on...

"Kurt, he's got to go." She murmured.

Clavam looked at her, but then, he agreed. "You're an ice cold bitch." He smirked, "Yeah, we'll need to use him for sneaking things where they're going. Can't have him blabbing or anything, so we'll deal with him early on."

That wasn't to say that Clavam wasn't the least bit conflicted on the matter. He liked Kurt, they made for good sparring partners and such. But Kurt didn't have a great dynamic with the rest of the group. Culler disgusted him, and Leronis was uncomfortable around him. Then there was the issue of his unexplained feud with Dock. It would have to be Kurt. And how convenient a fall guy could they have ever found?

He didn't like it, but it would have to be done. Plus Gladis herself, despite her stealthiness, couldn't be expected to be the brains and the hand that moved resources. She would draw too much heat and attention.

So, all of this settled, they got to business under the covers. Keeping up appearances.

[Clavam]

No moments were wasted in the interrim. Gladis told Clavam more of the plan, for which they made certain adjustments as they went along. While Gladis had a head for deception and spycraft and misdirection, Clavam was the tactician. They'd have to convince Dock to work with Kurt, at least for a while, and maintain a modicum of discipline about Kurt's brusque attitude toward the saboteur. They'd smuggle resources, food, other tradeables of a sort out from the Post and into a Mine that Dock had a hand in opening up in the past seasons. There, they were confident that Dock could arrange a hidden place to stash their goods, until they were ready to make a break for the southwest, toward Foster's Landing.

Gladis told him that she'd been shooting down birds from Eilleen, in order to check what kind of word they were sending back to various posts along the border of Rhakros. One of the birds bound for Highbend was addressed to Lord Vuda himself. This, she claimed, was how she'd found out that Clavam was potentially the spawn of Raskalarn she'd been sent to fetch.

Before long, however, their exchange ended, and they slept.



The next morning, Clavam awoke to a bird harassing his scalp. The familiar call of 'Boop' sounded from the raven's beak. It was Gladis' pet bird, come to deliver a wake-up call. But Gladis herself had long since departed the bunk in the night. Groaning to himself, he waved off the bird. It flapped angrily and flew into the rafters. Maybe it was envious of the time he spent with his mistress.

"Don't worry bird, I don't think she has eyes for any but yours," Clavam muttered, wiping the blur from his eyes as he regained his senses. Once he'd dressed, and put on his forge gear, he went down, made his way to Brock's Forge. There, he saw Dock and Kurt. Clavam dipped his head as he saw Kurt, not wanting to give away his guilt at what he was set to do.

Instead, he looked to Dock. He started in his direction before Kurt intercepted him. "Hey, five days right?"

"That's right," Clavam said, not sure what he was talking about. But Clavam hated to give the appearance of not being in the know. "What did she say?" He said in a low voice.

"Moving the materials? You gonna talk to Nall right?"

Clavam nodded, and then they got to work in the forge.

There was a drawplate and a set of stone die for the formation of iron wire. The iron wire they'd need to make mail armor. The officers needed the armor, and so it fell to them to do the less grunt-worthy task of drawing out the wire for the armor. They had to heat the ingots, and then draw them out to the point where they were of thin enough consistency to funnel through the drawplates. The drawing of the iron itself was powered by a water mill that was situated just over the forge. Once they ran the iron billets and drew them out, it was squeezed through the drawplates to create a wire. The wire would wrap around dowels. There were two sizes of dowels. One larger for the central rings, that would form the strongest links in the mail. Another thinner one for the connecting rings.

This process took a good few breaks of work, during which the wire was wrapped around the stone dowels many hundreds of times. A good dozen thousand links would be needed for the forming of one hauberk. In truth, here in the Post, a mail shirt was worth its own weight in gold. Most of the men wore hides or leathers, things that allowed them to scout out and patrol. Only the officers were allowed to don the mail armor, and given preference for the awarding of such.

Their style of links was in four to one link style. Four links were welded onto one central ring, and so on throughout the mesh. It was a simple pattern, or it would be if some of the rings didn't need to be riveted for added strength around where the joints would be. This process of soldering and riveting the rings cost several breaks more of work.

By the end of it, Kurt, Dock, and Clavam were sweating out of their scalps as they just about finished the hauberk, under the careful direction of Brock, of course. With his final touches and one last heat treatment for hardness, the hauberk was finished after quenching it.

Brock dismissed them shortly after to their own devices. Clavam wondered if the feud between Kurt and Dock had truly died down, because they hadn't bickered all through it. Perhaps Kurt was just happy at the prospect of leaving this Post. Clavam left them both behind, to talk over the specifics of their part in their mission.

[Doran]

Clavam:

Knowledge:
Deception: Pretending to be in a relationship to cover up a conspiracy.
Leadership: Using a work task to keep the peace between two followers who are normally at each others' throats.
Seduction: Cold lips aren't a great sign.
Smithing: Drawplates are used to draw metal into wire, for the formation of chain links.
Smithing: Mail is often reinforced at the joints and movable parts, in order to protect not only the wearer but prevent the armor from falling apart from excess movement.
Stealth: Hiding what you're doing beneath the cover of a blanket.

Loot: -
Lost: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: -
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 10

- - -

Comments: Well, that was an interesting way to start the thread. I couldn’t help but wonder why Gladis suddenly sidled up to Clavam in his bunk. Pretending to be romantically involved is a great cover in my opinion. I don’t think anybody will suspect them if they keep on doing that!

I really enjoyed their conspiring (and using coded language or not!). Poor Clavam was so mortified, especially once it became clear that their activity had gotten a bit of attention, but it sure made for an entertaining read.

I can’t wait to find out how their escape will go!

Gladis is a well-realized NPC in my opinion, by the way. She has her own, distinct personality!

Enjoy your rewards!